In a Land Far and Wide
by satan-chillin
Summary: Thor is the banished prince of Asgard casted away to another continent, Midgard. He believes that he has to prove himself by doing a feat worthy of Odin's recognition. Just his luck that he comes across Loki, a known uncaught traitor of Asgard. A quasi Medieval MCU fanfic.


Thor landed face-first on the ground.

He sputtered the dirt out of his mouth, standing on his shaky legs. When he collapsed on his knees at the sudden onslaught of ache throughout his body, he was reminded, like a harsh slap on the face, of the new reality he was subjected by his own father not a while ago.

He was now a mortal. A banished, mortal prince.

Even the title of royalty was no longer his. Odin had taken it all away from him as punishment; to teach him a lesson, he said, because it turned out that Thor wasn't ready to be king with his hotheadedness and poor judgment. Odin called him no different from a spoiled brat, striking exactly where it would hurt Thor the most by saying Frigga would have been disappointed if she could see him now.

But Thor knew he was right. He was right to rush at Jotunheim and storm their castle the same way they ruined what should have been his coronation day. Oh, Thor would bet the whole Asgard that Odin would never care to find out how those Jotuns managed to slip in at the treasure room because if there was one thing that Thor disapproved the most about Odin, it was his reluctance to see the truth if it meant breaking a fragile relationship. It was a farce; the so-called peace treaty with Jotunheim has always been brittle at best for several years, with the same delicate agreement that was placed under an even heavier strain a century ago after Odin took under his wing a Jotun sorcerer that ended up betraying him and Asgard.

Thor couldn't understand why Odin was frightened to burn to the ground the already decaying Jotunheim. It would have rid of him of Laufey, a vicious frost giant king that had it for Odin since they faced each other in the war for Midgard and especially when Odin had taken the Casket of Ancient Winters from him and Jotunheim. In the guise of a peace agreement, Laufey was seething in anger at Odin and cursing him for the present state of his people and his territory.

Thor and his friends didn't fan any flames—the war was already there! What they did was stumble upon it, and at least Thor _tried _to do something when nobody else cared to do so.

The moment the insulting words left Thor's lips, he wanted to take it back, thinking he uttered them out of spite. Though the more he thought about it, the more he began to think that he was also right. Odin was an old man and a fool.

A fool that Thor would have to prove himself to, the old man that Thor would have to convince that he was worthy of the throne of Asgard and the Mjolnir.

That he was worthy of Odin's love and approval.

* * *

Thor suppressed a shiver, rubbing his hands up and down his arms.

For more than a day, he was only met with the wilderness. He has no idea where he was thrown into, though he has a few guesses. It could be Alfheim, but Thor doubted he would be brought to familiar territories that would receive him with feasts and glorious cheers; therefore, the land of the dwarves and light elves were out of the question. If Odin didn't want it to be easy for him, then surely he wasn't too harsh to put him in the midst of Asgard's enemies. All that was left was the neutral grounds of Helheim or Midgard. And, well, it certainly didn't look like the land of the dead.

So he was in Midgard, wandering through its sparse vegetation and experiencing its capricious weather while his body was adjusting to its newly acquired mortality. Thor was unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he was now vulnerable to petty ailments.

This was truly the worst.

He was hungry, cold, and with nowhere to spend the night and make camp. Thor wondered if Odin could see him now, if he regretted the punishment he gave to his only son and thought that maybe he—

Thor knew Odin the most; he never second-guessed his decisions.

For all Thor knew, Odin was watching him stumble through the woods, his disappointment showing once more as Thor tripped on his own feet and didn't get up.

* * *

Thor was filled with inexplicable warmth that seeped to his bones, and the first thing he heard was a soft giggle.

Briefly, Thor entertained the notion that he might be at Alfheim and was found by one of the bathing female elves.

"Shh! You'll wake him," said another voice that sounded feminine, accompanied by a brush of wet cloth that swiped across Thor's forehead.

"Sorry, can't help it," said the person who giggled. It was a woman, though Thor knew as much. "You think he's a knight? I mean, look _at_ him."

The other female snorted. "Maybe. We can't know for sure until we ask him."

"Oh! Maybe he's like The Captain. Except that our guy came from underneath the earth instead of underwater."

There was a quiet laugh. "That's silly."

"Hey, that explains the muddy appearance."

"He was muddy because we found him lying on the wet ground."

Thor blinked, clearing his blurry vision. "Truly, my lady?"

The woman who was wringing the cloth on a basin gave a jolt at Thor's voice. The other lady was grinning from ear to ear, not coyly and Thor could see the impishness.

The one who appeared more sensible cleared her throat. "Uh, yes. We found you last night not far from here. Are you alright?"

"There's no better cure than being taken care of by two beautiful women," Thor said, not without a smirk. "To whom I owe my gratitude?"

"I'm Darcy," the woman with a coquettish smile introduced first, offering a hand. Thor took it gently before turning it to lay a kiss on her skin. She giggled once again. "Wow. Aren't you charming?"

"I've been told once or twice."

Seemingly catching herself, Darcy nudged her companion.

"I'm Jane. Jane Foster." Jane received the same treatment, although she looked as if she wasn't used to the gesture.

"Don't mind her. We're not used to being kissed by the hand," Darcy told him as Jane fussed over Thor, asking if it hurt anywhere. "Who exactly are you? Are you a knight?"

"Pardon her manners." Jane sent Darcy a stern eye. "Though, like Darcy, I admit I'd like to know too who you are."

"Actually, I as well would like to know."

The heavy fabric that served as the entrance to what seemed like a makeshift shelter, Thor came to realize, shifted open to reveal a man in his late middle age. He eyed Thor warily before standing crossed-arms on available space by the crate of supplies not far from the cot.

Thor stood properly, giving the man an Asgardian greeting of a hand on a chest. He heard another muffled giggling from Darcy when he stood shirtless. Jane turned away, trying not to stare.

"I'm Thor, sir…?"

"Erik is fine," the man mumbled, unimpressed.

"Master Erik, I thank you and your lovely daughters for taking care of me."

"They're not my children," Erik said quietly.

"Jane is Erik's student-apprentice whatever," Darcy answered. "And I'm Jane's apprentice. Apprentice of an apprentice."

"That's nonetheless a fine profession," Thor allowed cordially. His attention returned to Erik. "You're a healer?"

Erik snorted. "I might venture to that if my studies proved to be futile. I'm a scholar, formerly taught in the Academy, but my calling is to be out in the world. Especially with my field that is the study of the skies, the moon, and stars alike."

"I see." Thor nodded, not pursuing the topic further. Scholars in Asgard who underwent the same kind of education and practice weren't deem necessary, for what were the skies compared to the study of magic? Oftentimes, they were labeled heretics for claiming the existence of other worlds and beings.

"So, Thor, you a soldier?"

"I am a warrior." Thor considered for a moment revealing the truth and decided that he should. He owed them that much. "I am the warrior prince of Asgard."

"And I'm King Fury," Erik shot back dryly. "Be honest, Thor. I'd accept the truth over any convincing excuse." There was a hint of warning in his tone that reminded Thor of Heimdall and his calm anger that he has no wish to see again.

"That is the truth," Thor said, thoughtful and confused. "Alright, the title of prince might not be true at the present after Odin banished me and stripped me of my title, but I couldn't deny my honor as a warrior and my lineage. I'm Odin's only son. Who would take the mantle after him aside from me?"

Erik carefully regarded him patiently. "Are you a fugitive, Thor? I'm telling you again: be honest."

"A fugitive? I just told you that I'm—"

"A prince of a fictional continent. How do you expect us to believe that, Thor?"

"Asgard is not a fictional continent. It's real. It's where I was born and raised," Thor insisted. It was unbelievable to his ears what Erik was saying. Midgard didn't think Asgard existed? Preposterous!

"So you say. Do you have proof of it? Can you even tell me the exact location of Asgard?"

"Asgard is at the northeasternmost of the world, and opposite its location is Jotunheim."

Thor was interrupted by Erik lifting a hand to halt him from speaking. "These locations have been explored, Thor, and nobody who came back claimed that they've been to the golden country of Asgard or the snowy peaks of Jotunheim. I've known scholars who studied geography and sought to find these places that you claim existed." It didn't sit well with Thor the sympathetic tinge in Erik's tone. "Look, Thor. I'm the kind of person who wouldn't wish even a hardened criminal to be mauled by wolves when they were undefended. I took you in and broke your fever despite not knowing you. If you happened to be somebody who shouldn't be let out in the civilization, I've made a decision that it would be on me. Frankly, I'm afraid for myself, Jane, and Darcy. We're in the middle of nowhere with none one of us knew how to defend ourselves in case we are being attacked. I'm not asking for anything in return, just that you tell us the truth, or simply tell us that you don't wish us to know. That is more preferable than being lied to."

"The truth is staring and talking in front of you, and you refuse to believe it. I thought people like you would be more open-minded to this. Seems like I'm wrong."

Thor stormed out. He needed to clear his head or else he would keep thinking that when he reached a certain age, he would be as equally stubborn as Erik and Odin.

**~O~O~O~**

He wasn't officially kicked out, but when Jane approached him a while later, Thor supposed that it was to say that he was no longer welcome.

"Do you mind?" she asked politely. It made Thor somewhat guilty for his rather childish action earlier.

"You don't have to ask, my lady."

"It's common courtesy," Jane said, sitting on a flat boulder. "You might not even want my presence."

"I won't refuse the presence of a comely woman anytime," Thor said automatically, although the smile was dimmed.

"Are all men in Asgard flatterers?"

"Can't speak for the rest, though I can ask around once I…" Thor caught himself. "Apologies. I don't know the answer to that."

"It's alright," she assured him. "I don't mind. Tell me more. What is Asgard like? Is it golden as they say?"

Thor was warmed by her acceptance and open curiosity. "Most are made of gold, the castle especially, but not all are like that. It probably earned that name for the protective dome that it has. It's a barrier that serves as our first line of defense, made of both magic and machinery, hence the golden color."

"Wow." Jane's eyes lit in interest. "Sorcery is a thing in Asgard? Like people practice it?"

"The king knows sorcery, and in his younger years, he was known to use both his brute strength and magic. It's a terrible combination for his enemies, add to that Odin's cleverness. But I was told that since I was born, the magic began to be viewed differently. It's not exactly outlawed, but the practice became a touchy subject, more so within Odin's court."

"What happened?"

"There was a sorcerer in the close circle of the royal family back then. He betrayed the king by aiding the dark elves to enter the kingdom," Thor recounted the infamous incident that was passed on for years as part of Asgard's history. He had taken a bit of liking at the story since he was a child, told to him every night by the maids and his tutors. At a very young age, Thor thrilled at the stories of battle, this one specifically. They said it was grand when Odin crushed the dark elves and took the red orb from them that powered Malekith—the ruler of the dark elves that fought foolishly against Asgard—in the same purpose the Casket of Ancient Winters was Jotunheim's source of energy. "What was more despicable was his act of offering a newborn Asgardian to Malekith."

"Was he caught?"

"No," Thor said darkly. "He was as they said: intelligent and powerful with a lot of tricks up his sleeves. He remained a wanted fugitive of Asgard, though I don't think they're bothering to find him anymore." It was unfair that the reason of several Asgardians' death was never brought into justice. If—_once_ he was the king, he would change that. Nobody should have gotten away with heinous crimes. Thor glanced at Jane and was glad to find that she didn't appear to be merely humoring him. She was clearly listening to everything he was saying. "I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear first," he added, almost sheepish.

"I'm not really picky. It's a part of Asgard's history, so it's interesting to learn that as well."

"You heard Erik. He's right. I don't have evidence to back up my claim. And it turns out that Asgard is a stuff of legends here in this continent." If Thor was to be in this place longer, he would have to look it up for himself. He was never a fan of books and more so reading, but in this situation, it might be beneficial to know more about Midgard. Suddenly, he regretted not listening more to his tutors.

"You can't prove yourself, nor could Erik prove that you're lying either," Jane pointed out. "I'm skeptical, sure, but growing up to my Nan's tales made me give your story a benefit of a doubt at best. It's not like I haven't heard the most outlandish. For example, the existence of an isolated island that houses the most peculiar people like a man who has claws made of metal, a woman who can control the weather, and an old man who can invade the mind of another. All I'm saying is that I don't easily decide the truth unless I've seen or heard from both sides. The world is vast; I don't have to go on an expedition to know that. There are probably places that no man from this country or its neighbors ever reached yet. Who knows, maybe Asgard is one of them that's why it's deemed a mythical land."

Jane was… Thor didn't know how he could describe her. She wasn't much different from Sif in terms of her convictions, though their similarities stopped there. Jane's strength was obviously her intellect brought by the desire to learn more and wasn't averse to see another perspective of somebody else. Thor found that he also liked these qualities of her aside from her outside appearance.

"I appreciate you listening to me, my lady," Thor told her sincerely.

"Jane is fine."

"Lady Jane." Jane rolled her eyes, making Thor chuckle a bit at the display of ungracefulness. "I'd like to return the favor and hear more tales from you."

"Oh? You haven't heard some Midgardian Tales before?"

"No. I haven't." Thor frowned. "The island that you told me about is new to me."

"That one is actually fairly new, considering. My Nan said it began to spread around her young age. I do remember, though, a very old one that she used to tell me before I sleep. She said it was passed down to her by her mother and her mother's grandmother. It's about a strange being that they said came from the skies amidst a storm, with blue skin littered with markings. It was Nan's favorite, I think, since she used to draw numerous times the being in the tale exactly it was described: with the figure of a male, ink-black hair, and wearing headgear with a pair of curved horns."

The descriptions sounded familiar to Thor—too familiar, in fact, but he could be wrong. "What happened to him?"

"Nobody knows what happened even until now." Jane shrugged. "It's not hard for people to dismiss it as another story of beings from different worlds. Nan was… different." Jane didn't say anything more, and Thor didn't ask. "Though to be fair, she was quite artistic. It makes me wonder why she never pursued that. She was an herbalist until her death."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Thor said genuinely.

"Thanks. It's been a while already, and time had dulled the pain of her passing. Still, I remember her occasionally, and it made me lonely because she was more of a mother to me than my own mother," Jane admitted, brushing away quickly her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—family drama, you know."

Thor knew. He had a fair share of it in Asgard after all. He recalled being young and envious of children playing with their mothers and holding their hands. With Frigga no longer in the picture, Odin was distant and cold that Thor used to think before that he wasn't his real son, that maybe Odin had no other choice but to raise him. Heimdall never failed to assure him otherwise.

Thor didn't speak. It would only sound hollow if he said he understood what losing a mother meant. What did he know of that when he never got the chance to know and love Frigga in the first place?

**~O~O~O~**

Thankfully, his body finally adjusted to its present state after three days of substantial gruel courtesy of his host. With newfound strength and optimism for his situation, Thor set out to find a game for supper.

When he returned to the camp, Jane, Erik, and Darcy were around the fire, quieting down upon seeing him and the deer slung over his shoulders.

Thor gave it as a sign of gratitude and a gesture of making peace with Erik. He gratefully took the offer by Erik himself to join them, with Darcy saying they were lucky to have Thor because they've been living off on beans and Erik's terrible stew for days. It earned her a laugh from Thor and grumbling from Erik for both offense and the truth of it. Jane hid her grin.

"About what happened," Erik began once it was just the two of them. "Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Erik. I was also at fault. Although, I won't take back what I told you."

"I know. I'm not asking you to," Erik said. "Jane told me that she trusted you, and she's a good judge of character."

"Jane is a good person, so are you and Darcy."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure you originally meant to mention Jane alone." Thor was silent. "Oh, to hell with it. She's old enough to decide on her own." Erik sighed. "I never had the chance to have children, that's why Jane and Darcy are the closest I could have. Imagine the case if they're my real daughters, my protectiveness would have been the worst."

"You mean well. Surely, they appreciate you looking out for them."

Erik needed to hear that, Thor supposed, given the gratefulness that flashed on his face as he stoked the fire. "What is your plan now? Not that I'm kicking you out. Just wondering if you're planning to return to, uh, where you came from."

Frankly, Thor has no clue how to do that. He could shout on top of his lungs for Heimdall to hear, exactly how he did when he first landed in Midgard and ending up with a sore throat. It was foolish, knowing that in Odin's eye Thor hasn't done yet to prove himself to the king.

Now that his banishment had simmered down to him, Thor realized that returning empty-handed would make him ridiculous and desperate.

He wondered what Odin would have liked. A head of a gargantuan beast? But such a quest was a sport for Thor. He wasn't lacking in trophies from his hunts with his friends. Should he win a test of valor? But against Midgardians, he _knew_ he would win, mortal or not. It would hardly be a fair fight. Was there maiden that he could rescue from her entrapment in a castle and take home as his bride? If there was, he doubted that she would appreciate being saved only to be relocated to another palace that would be no different than her previous prison, with a husband who hardly saw her and would take any available and willing wench if it meant serving the prince.

Right. The latter was most definitely out of the question.

"I don't know," Thor finally said. "I don't think my father would accept me back unless I do an honorable deed worth his recognition." He pretended not to see Erik's skeptical frown. "Also, I don't think I can face my friends after putting them in danger out of my impulsive behavior." They reiterated that they would follow him anywhere, alright, but for that, Thor felt he was responsible. He was painfully reminded of Fandral's punctured chest and Volstagg's burnt arm. They've had injuries before, but these have more impact on Thor the more he dwelled on the memory.

Because the reason they got them was petty.

"Thor?"

"I was thinking," he said with a thin smile. Erik thought Thor has more to say within that line, though instead, he asked, "How far is the nearest town?"

"Half a day's ride west from here," Erik answered evenly.

"Then I leave at the first crack of dawn tomorrow." Thor was readier than he thought.

"That early? We don't mind the company, and our trip here is funded by the Academy. At every end of the week, an errant knight or two comes here to replenish our supply."

"Thank you for your graciousness, but I already made up my mind to not overstay my welcome. I'll never forget, though, how you saved my life and accepted a complete stranger to share fire and a warm meal together with your family."

"Anybody would have done the same," Erik muttered.

"No, not really." Thor pursed his lips. "I only wish that you won't encounter somebody who would abuse your kindness."

"I hope so too, Thor. I hope so."

**~O~O~O~**

"Take it." Before Thor could protest, Erik added, "I could always tell the supplier that I lost one."

"That's… thank you. Again." Thor took the reins of the gelding whose color wasn't that different from Sleipnir. Erik called him Bill, and with Bill, he sent rations from their supplies for Thor's consumption at least until he managed to earn for himself once he arrived in the town. Erik was confident Thor would easily make a few silvers. It was about Thor's stature and built, Erik pointed out.

"Then you best be careful out here. I didn't encounter any predators when I hunted, but in forests such as this, there are always some prowling in the night."

"Frankly, the most notorious predator I could think of are humans," Erik remarked dryly. He wasn't wrong. Erik's gaze landed past Thor. "Safe travels, Thor." He patted Thor's shoulder in encouragement before walking away.

Jane made herself known, with Darcy who followed suit with a muffled yawn. "I heard last night that you're leaving today."

"Eavesdropping, weren't you?" Thor teased, unable to resist. Jane looked indignant. "I won't tell you that it's unwomanly, because that's exactly what women do." She reddened when Darcy agreed readily. "But I'm glad you did. I get to see—say goodbye. And thank you. To both of you."

"Don't mention it, Thor. Happy to help." Darcy grinned proudly like a kid glad to be recognized by the adults. Thor realized that he might have mistaken her initial intentions.

"It's nice to know you," Jane said, looking up to Thor with her honest brown eyes earnestly and with a touch of adoration. She wasn't like the statuesque beauty of female Asgardians, nor did she has the elegant porcelain allure of the female elves of Alfheim. Jane was beautiful in her own simple way.

When their eyes met, an understanding passed between them. Thor would be back here. To Jane. He just knew it.

The spell was broken when Jane seemed to remember something and rummaged inside her bag. She pulled out a book bound in worn green leather. Jane handed it to him. "My Nan gave me this aside from her diary. It's a collection of her tales and her illustrations. I've had it copied already, even the parts I don't understand. I hope it helps to pass the time. And to know Midgard better."

"I couldn't take this. This is a personal belonging."

"Then all the more reason for you to come back and return it to me."

They both missed when Darcy left them, both too preoccupied to notice what was going on around them, too preoccupied making unspoken promises of next time.

"Many thanks, my lady." Thor secured the book. "For a lot of things including the belief in my origin. Perhaps one day I'll return, and by then I have with me a concrete proof. Farewell, Lady Jane. May we meet again soon."

**~O~O~O~**

Thor stopped near a river bed after an estimated amount of time had passed. He snacked on an apple that he picked along the way—he was planning to save the rations Erik sent him with—while Bill drank his fill.

Within the first hour of their journey, they passed the area where Thor was found by Erik. The landmark was an overturned cypress. Further north of it with an estimation of a day on horseback was Thor believed the location where he landed first in Midgard.

The mark left by Bifrost should have remained there for a week. What would Midgardians think of it if they happened to stumble upon the singed trees and the patch of land that used to be fertile now dry with an imprint? If there was one thing he knew of them, they were nothing short of curious. Unexplained phenomena pricked on their minds insistently until an explanation could be found. Would they even think that a person came crashing down in their lands?

Thor sat on a flat rock and pulled out the book Jane gave him. The pages were yellow and brittle, close to sticking together. Its musty smell, though, wasn't entirely unpleasant. Thor had smelt worse, and Asgardian tomes were definitely heavier and dustier. He disliked holding them as a kid.

The neat handwriting was in even blocks of letters. He was mildly surprised to find that he understood the Midgardian text perfectly; good to know that Odin let him retain the AllSpeak. Thor skimmed through the first few pages telling about a mercenary covered in scarlet from head to toe, sans the eyes, in depiction of his occupation where he ended more often than not being bathed in the blood of his enemies. He sported two swords on his back, but what was deadlier was his ruthless words and frivolity.

Thor frowned. He wasn't aware words could be more harming than a blade, except if it was an incantation uttered by a sorcerer.

He allowed himself another page that told exactly why the mercenary was covered fully: an incurable, strange affliction that turned all of his skin to scars and scabs. Ugly as he might be underneath, there was a faithful wife waiting for him back home who would wash all the blood of his victims away. The story ended with the mercenary remaining undefeated.

Defeating the undefeated in a fair fight would display valor worthy of a prince. If the tale wasn't so old, that was. Midgardians didn't have the same lifespan as Asgardians, nor with any of the beings that resided within the secluded sections of the Nine Continents, specifically the lands these Midgardians deemed fictional. Should the tale of this mercenary was true, then a number of years had passed, with the mercenary defeated by old age.

It dawned to Thor that it would be a tricky venture to find a reputable challenge in Midgard. There was barely any magic in these lands, almost none. Midgard was brimming with humans who were artisans, farmers, fishermen, and scholars. The worst they had faced must have been natural disasters. They wage war among themselves, and terrible monarchies were ousted by far worse. They were divided and often in a struggle to conquer territories they could get their hands on.

Hunting a beast was becoming more and more the only plausible solution to his dilemma. Could a humongous and terrifying beast that strikes fear in the hearts of men exist in Midgard? Midgard obviously has colorful tales that have some truth in it. It would be regrettable if Thor arrived too late when the sense of adventure had long swept past the land and its people who have settled down in a mundane routine without living with any excitement.

No matter. Thor has no shortage of time, and more so stubbornness. If he would have to explore every nook and cranny of Midgard, then so be it.

* * *

He arrived late in the afternoon at a small busy town that he didn't bother knowing the name of. It wasn't dissimilar to the smaller towns of Asgard, with people bustling about in their day-to-day lives. Thor could spot an individual mucking a pig pen, and an old man who passed him by, leaving the town atop a bullock cart carrying wares and sacks of grains. A windmill towered over the rest, its fan moving in a gentle rotation along with the light wind, casting a softening shadow. Children were running on the uneven road, playing outside their homes while their mothers were preparing supper inside.

It was a peaceful sight, and Thor knew immediately that the adventure he was looking for couldn't be found here. But such a quiet life was rare in a land where there were different rulers. Asgard thrived, and its people were living the same state because there was one king ruling and uniting all. This town—_Kolkata_, the town marker read—belonged under a certain ruler owning a certain piece of Midgard. Finding a map of Midgard was another of Thor's priorities.

He had Bill settled at the stables of the local inn. Inside, there were a few patrons nursing their drinks and meals. Thor got a handful of glances to his direction when he entered the establishment. Nothing hostile, simply curious and some oddly looking at him with fascination. He paid them no heed, going straight to the counter and asking the innkeeper for a tankard of mead. They have none of that, it turned out, much to Thor's annoyance.

"Give me whatever you have. Strong."

The innkeeper presented him with a drink that has a roasted smell of malts. It was bitter to the taste, but the flavor was strong and contained a higher alcohol content. "Stout," Thor stated, impressed. "I like it."

"Glad to serve." The innkeeper's gruff pockmarked face made way for a toothy grin. "Admittedly, it's not as good as they have in Shield, but what we have in abundance here are grains."

Thor hummed against his drink. "This Shield," he began. Odd name for a place, that. "How far is it from here?"

The innkeeper appeared visibly startled at the question. "Isn't that where you came from?"

"No. I came from a scholar's camp," Thor answered. He gave vague directions as to where and the length of travel. "You know what I'm talking about?"

"Er, no, no. Not that." The man frowned. "You mean to say that you're not The Captain?"

"The who?"

"The Captain. Shield's champion."

"I don't understand."

The innkeeper sighed, slinging his towel over his shoulder. "Judging by your reaction, you're not him. I thought, well, he's you. You're tall, blond, and…" he paused, gesturing at his face with his hand. "You look like him."

"The Captain," Thor repeated, leaning in interest. "Who is he?"

"You mean you don't know?" the innkeeper asked incredulously. "What rock did you crawl from?"

Recalling Erik's reaction, Thor didn't think mentioning he was from Asgard would be appreciated. "I've been away for a while. I'm not updated with the comings and goings."

He received a suspicious stare that morphed into nonchalance. The innkeeper resumed his tidying. "I've only heard the rumors. They said he's akin to the gods of old: virtuous, righteous, and the bravest warrior of Midgard. They said he had the grace of the first queen of Shield, Queen Margaret."

"Wait," Thor interrupted. Shield was a kingdom (who would name their kingdom 'Shield'?), and he might have heard wrong, but… "The first queen? You mean The Captain is old?"

"I'm getting there." The innkeeper eyed Thor warily, not happy to be cut off. "The Captain was thought long dead. You've seen statues of him, yah?" Thor didn't answer. "He was a historical figure. Until not long ago he was found at the bottom of the sea when a pearl diver explored beyond his usual location, to the much colder regions. You'd expect that The Captain was all bones, eaten by sharks and all that, but he was intact for years, then, at last, the king of Shield sent several men to handle The Captain's retrieval. He was warmed and then sometime later, he woke up, out of time."

Thor recalled hearing from Darcy about The Captain when he was in his waking moment. So this was the story of The Captain, and this was no fiction.

"Can't think how he could live normally afterward," the innkeeper mumbled. "You thought you died, only to wake and you find all the people you know already dead. The world moved on without you."

With no battle to be fought, The Captain would feel that he lost his purpose other than a decorative trophy, a living symbol of a noble warrior's qualities and glory, which was the purpose of his statues and written histories about him. He was no better than an effigy, living in a time that wasn't his own. It would either break his morale or break him.

"Can you challenge The Captain in a duel?"

"What?"

"I ask if you can challenge the champion in a formal duel," Thor repeated patiently. "I wish to fight him."

The innkeeper looked displeased. "You're pulling my leg."

"I am not. I'd be honored to fight him, and I think he will also say the same," he stated confidently. The Captain would be battling Asgard's finest and its prince. Thor, in turn, would be dueling against the best Midgard could offer.

"Jester, are you?" The innkeeper snorted. "You looking for a room?"

Thor was every bit serious, but his protest would clearly be lost on this man seeing as Midgardians gave the clear impression of being suspicious of vivant claims. "For the night," he groused reluctantly. "Don't suppose you know where I could find work?"

**~O~O~O~**

Thor was directed to an isolated hut located right at the edge of the woods. It has a curious short pole atop where a lantern was dangling. The windows were boarded, not letting any sunlight in, but it was most likely to keep people away. For a physician whose service was more often than not needed, they were not keen to open their door easily.

What an eccentric man, he thought. Half the town thought, the innkeeper had told him beforehand, that the local physician was an odd man with an inexplicable paranoia. When Thor asked what made him say so, the reply was that Bruce, Kolkata's physician, was a shut-in. He rarely went out during the day, but should the need arose, he was willing to for any patient. He was mostly seen under the cover of the night, tending to his own plot of land at the back of his house where he grew his vegetables and some herbs.

"How does he replenish his supplies?" Thor asked beforehand.

"Probably sent a kid or two to get things for him. Gives them food or nickel for the trouble. He keeps mostly to himself, but he's a good physician who's fair with his fees."

Which brought them to the topic of earning a coin. Apparently, there was a cartload of supplies of imported medical ingredients that was supposed to arrive four days ago but was lost on the way and with no notice in advanced about the delay reaching Bruce. He was looking for somebody willing to search and bring them to him.

"If he's secluded, how come you by this?" Thor inquired, reasonably, he might add, though the innkeeper didn't seem forthcoming with the question.

"He approached me last night, of course. He asked that should anybody _not _shady ask for work they are to be directed to him."

"You don't think I'm shady?"

The innkeeper rolled his eyes. "What do you think?" He shook his head. "You don't look like you have much going on up there, but you look alright. Bruce could use your built."

Thor didn't dwell on what that blunt statement meant. "Is Bruce an old man?"

"What? No. Not much older than you, I reckon. He's actually young for someone considered to be a seasoned healer."

"Then why don't he search for his missing supplies instead?"

"Do you want this work or not?"

Thor knocked on the door thrice and waited. There was no answer. He tried another set of knocks wherein he waited, much briefer; he wasn't known for his patience either way. He added more force than necessary on his next try that was enough to unhinge the door, dropping all pretense of politeness as impatience overcame him.

"Bruce!"

After a few beats, there was a shuffling of feet from inside and a call of "In a bit!" that came from a calm voice colored with grogginess and irritation.

The door was opened slightly, though enough to reveal a brunet of average height rubbing the sleepiness away from his baggy eyes and dark rings. In turn, the space was enough for Bruce to see who was pounding at his door at this early in the morning.

When Bruce began to truly look at the features of the stranger at his doorsteps, his eyes widened in disbelief.

The door was shut right at Thor's face.

"Hey!"

"Go away!"

"Why should I? I need to speak with you!"

"No way! Just—Just go!"

"Not until I speak with you!"

"Please." Bruce must have remained close to the door for Thor could hear his sharp exhale. "You don't want me angry."

"And you don't want me angry too!" Thor hissed, feeling somewhat insulted. His fist hit the door once more. "Open the door. I need work, damn it!"

"Work? Ha! Nice try. Aren't you currently at yours?"

"What?" Thor asked mostly for himself. "What do you mean?"

"That you're here sent to dispose of me!"

"What?" Thor repeated. "Why would I—"

"You think I'm an idiot?! What other reason is there for The Captain to come here himself?!"

"Oh, for the love of Norns—I'm not The Captain!"

"Please, please, _please, _just leave, I'm begging you. I don't wish any harm. If you'll just let me pack, then I'll leave immediately and move somewhere—"

A loud crash interrupted Bruce who was nearly toppled over by his own door. Bruce scrambled to cover his own head as the wooden splinters rained down on him.

"Now, will you tell me what's going on?" Thor demanded upon his entry, kicking the debris on his way. "I don't understand why you people keep comparing me to this _Captain._"

"Because you look like him!" Bruce's voice had taken an animalistic roar that Thor wasn't expecting completely to come from this… short man with disheveled hair of all people. He was on his feet at once, baring his teeth in fury as a vein became prominent.

Thor laughed.

Bruce looked perplexed as Thor continued laughing. His offended expression, though, served to placate his anger. "What's funny?"

"I didn't think you have it in you," Thor said with a wide grin. "The look of a disgruntled canine."

"People usually run at the sight," Bruce muttered lamely, sweeping a chunk of wood away. Bruce blinked, realization dawning on him. "You destroyed my door!"

"Because you slammed it close in front of me. It's rude."

"So is kicking somebody's door down!"

"You won't hear me out. I told you I'm not this Captain you're mistaking me as."

Bruce gave him a quick glance over before, noting the lack of any semblance of armor or weapon on Thor. Still, if The Captain was known as he was, then he would only need his fists. "Prove it."

"How do I prove myself to be not somebody you thought I am?"

Frankly, it _did _sound ridiculous to both their ears. "I don't know. Who are you? Where do you live?"

"I'm Thor," Thor said readily, though he hesitated to say where he came from. "I'm… not from around here."

"So you're not The Captain, but you're a soldier from Shield then, or a hired cutthroat."

"I'm not a cutthroat," Thor said. His tone was serious and calm, albeit clueless as to what warranted such deep-set paranoia. "I don't really have no way to prove who I am not, but I assure you that I'm only here for the work that you're offering."

Bruce slumped on the floor, defeated. Thor was more patient when he let Bruce get accustomed to his presence, until at last, the latter asked, "Really?"

Thor nodded. "The innkeeper told me you need help with your missing supplies." He plopped down on the ground opposite Bruce's position without blocking the entryway. "Sorry about your door. It was the most non-hostile approach I could think of."

"It's fine." Bruce waved his hand dismissively, resigned. "Told you I'm planning on moving out anyway."

"You said that when you thought I was somebody hunting you down."

"I _still_ think you are," Bruce corrected. "Dunno, probably trying to get my trust or something."

"Right. I don't have the time for that."

"Clearly," Bruce replied dryly. "But I can't underestimate Shield."

"Shield is hunting you down?" Bruce looked at him funny. "Pretend that I don't know." Because Thor didn't really know.

"Then better that you don't."

"Fine," Thor said tersely. He had enough of Bruce's obstinacy. "Tell me more about the job instead. If you gave me directions to where you suspect it might be lost, then I'll go and return your goods."

Bruce stared at him for a minute. "You'd do that?"

"That's why I'm here in the first place." Thor shrugged. "Why do you believe it got lost on the way? Could it be that they never left for delivery?"

"I received a missive saying when they left and the expected time of arrival barring any complications on the road." At Thor's expectant face, Bruce continued, "They might have stopped a mile east from here, a traders' stop."

"Then I'll be off there." Thor paused, frowning suspiciously at Bruce. "You won't leave while I'm gone, are you?" At Bruce's alarm, Thor scoffed. "You'll leave without paying me!" he accused.

"That's what you're worried about?"

"I told you I need a coin."

Bruce's fingers found the bridge of his nose, trying to abate a headache on the way. He wasn't as angry as he had looked earlier. He appeared conflicted, torn between trusting Thor's words and taking his usual precautions.

Thor left the hut without a word, shaking his head. He was yet to make it out of earshot when Bruce called again, stopping him.

"Wait. I'll come with you," Bruce said as he jogged closer. "But I'm going to stop by Tom first."

**~O~O~O~**

Tom, the innkeeper, eyed Thor warily before turning to Bruce. "So if you don't return by nightfall, this man here already killed you, is that it?"

"That or imprisoned or I escaped, ran off without looking back," Bruce admitted bluntly.

"Mighty brave of you to assume that I'll fail," Thor retorted, crossing his arms. His bravado failed him when he realized what that meant. "Not that I'm planning to kill you. Unless it's self-defense, of course."

"See what I'm dealing with?" Bruce said knowingly to Tom. "Feels like he'll attack me out of impulse."

Tom nodded gravely. "I see what you mean."

Bruce was grateful Tom didn't pry. "If I fail to return, take care of Betty for me."

"'course I will," Tom promised. "She's a good one. Such a shame if you'll end up leaving her. She'll lose you, and you'll have no warmth at cold days."

"I appreciate your sympathy. But I'll have no other choice when it comes to that."

"Then let's hope it won't come to that," Tom said grimly. He never once dropped the scowl he threw Thor's direction even as they bid goodbye to the innkeeper.

**~O~O~O~**

"You're letting another man take care of your woman?"

Bruce was puzzled. "What woman?"

"This Betty of yours. I thought she was a daughter, but you said she warms you at night."

"She's not my woman, Thor." Bruce sighed. "She's a sheep."

"A sheep." Bruce kind of expected him to laugh. "Your pet is a sheep. That's… different."

"That's all you have to say?" Bruce bent to pick up a thin bough. "People think it's weird to keep an animal that's supposed to be food."

Asgardian pets could be wargs or crocodiles, creatures that weren't supposedly tame. A domesticated animal was in fact an ideal companion. "I've seen weirder."

Neither of them broke the rather tense silence even as they began maneuvering through thick foliage and trudged through the muddy and slippery surface near the river banks. It wasn't the same direction Thor came from, though the same stream of water was steadily flowing on the river bed. The vegetation only extended as far before they reached the ford. On the other side, there were signs of a path taken on wheels and on horseback.

"Why didn't you want me to bring my horse?" Thor asked.

"It'll run off at first notice when it senses the wolves."

"Wolves? In broad daylight?"

"You didn't hear? They're rampant on these parts recently, hunting in packs during the day even," Bruce answered.

"Nonsense. It's not exactly here, but I've traveled the extension of this woods before reaching Kolkata. No wolves."

"How about snakes? I'm telling you, they have a lot, enough that there's what they call The Big Four."

"Huh. I haven't encountered one. Now that I think about it, I met none of those kinds of animals. Does, maybe, but no predators."

"Lucky for you," Bruce remarked. "Which is why I worry. Traders' stop is only as safe for a group of people, but with what I told you, most who often stop by there learned not to stay for too long. Not everyone knew that it has gotten dangerous."

"You think your suppliers are attacked?"

"Could be. I hope not. I only see them twice or thrice within half a year, and I don't know them personally, but I do know that they're a pair of father and son. The lad is only seventeen."

Thor nodded, silently walking at Bruce's side. The tension between them ebbed at a subdued level, although it didn't mean that Bruce was raring to drop his guard around Thor. He let Bruce on that, keeping a respectful distance without having to walk behind him.

Traders' stop was an elevated patch of dry land that formed a circular platform of sorts. Overturned logs were repurposed as seats, same with the flat tops of the lower part of severed trunks. It must have been an ideal campsite until the dangers lurking around it had extended further. No wonder traders only stop there now for a short break and not for the night.

Except those foolish enough to dare, judging from the blackened spot where the firewood must have burned for a long while. Bruce was immediately beside him, clutching a fabric.

"It could be anybody," Thor said, understanding the conflicted expression on Bruce's face.

"I'm sure it's them." The fist gripping the strip of cloth tightened. Bruce squared his shoulders, turning around. "I think I can follow a trail."

Thor followed Bruce up to an outcropping a few meters ahead. They were met with a slope that wasn't particularly steep, though falling would surely be detrimental. Bruce positioned himself to get down below, with Thor following suit, towards the cart toppled on its side and missing one of its wheels.

Thor spared Bruce a glance, unable to tell if it was better that there were no other signs of the missing supplies or if it only made Bruce felt terrible.

Bruce reached for a burlap sack that spilled its contents, examining the brownish powder. He reached for a much smaller bag, the one that wasn't completely held down by the heavy weight of the cart, retrieving a fistful of what appeared to be course green powder. He sighed. "These are the things I'm waiting for." He stood, rubbing his palms clean on his trousers.

Thor approached the rear part, searching for a hold in order to lift the cart off. It shouldn't be _that _heavy, and yet he was forced to stagger a bit at its weight. Thor surreptitiously looked at Bruce; the man didn't seem to notice. He tried again, holding on what was left of the torn wooden panel side.

The cart gave a creak under Thor's effort. He grunted, putting more force.

It budged, only to fall back again a little from its previous position.

Thor huffed. It must be as heavy as a bilgesnipe, that or—

Of course. Of course, it has something to do with his present state. He had noticed it when he hunted a deer for Erik. What should have been light before made him exert more labor.

"This is idiotic," Thor hissed.

Out of a lapse of anger at being reminded again of his mortality, he lifted the cart slightly and threw it aside. Bruce winced at the impact of wood against the bare ground, the sound not unlike when Thor destroyed his door. He eyed Thor warily.

"Hey, you okay?" Bruce attempted to ask from behind Thor.

Thor didn't answer. His shoulders shook before he leaned down and began tying the burlap sacks. Bruce imitated the gesture, working quietly as he checked what was missing. There was none, and he was hardly bothered by some that already spilled; he ordered them in more than the exact amounts he needed just in case.

"I'll carry three, and you can have the rest. It'll only take us a single trip then."

Bruce looked hesitantly at the remaining two sacks. It wasn't as heavy as those that Thor had taken to lift by himself, but Bruce appeared reluctant. "I can't, Thor. I'm sorry. I'll pay you double for the trouble, but I can't lift them by myself."

"You're injured," Thor concluded with furrowed brows.

"I'm not," Bruce answered before he could stop himself. From his expression, he believed he should have given that excuse. "I try not to lift heavy things."

"You're not injured, but perhaps an ailment in the bones then?"

"No," Bruce said, exasperated. "It's a thing. Don't ask." He was firm when he told Thor, not leaving any room for argument.

How utterly mistaken he was to think that was the end of it.

"Bruce," Thor began, tremendously serious once he thought he already figured out Bruce's oddity. "Are you insecure about your manliness?"

Bruce stared, dumbfounded.

Thor mistook his reaction, unsurprisingly, making him nod in understanding. "I've heard them before. Rarely, though. They've been called cowards from where I came from, but personally, I think it's brave to admit even to their own self. So once when someone approached me regarding it, I gave them a piece of advice to let it all out. Screaming on top of your lungs and making animalistic noises work. I don't think you'll have difficulty with the latter—that was a mighty roar you did earlier, honest. It's the first step, and you can do it now while it's just the two of us. I don't mind. And then you'll have to—"

"Alright, stop." Bruce held up a hand. He took a deep breath. "This conversation is over."

"You don't want to hear the next step?" Thor was miffed.

"No, because I'm not insecure about my manliness, Thor." With the blond's knowing look, Bruce knew immediately that he only being humored. "I'm not denying it either."

Bruce wondered what the hell happened a while ago. Thor seemed to be angry about something when he pulled the cart away from the supplies, and while it was unsettling, he was quiet, at least, and his mind not running with ridiculous ideas. If Thor wasn't truly from Shield out to take him out, then he would kill Bruce some other way, namely frustration.

They took two trips back and forth, with Bruce checking on Tom every time to assure him that everything was fine so far. It was almost sundown when they were finished, with Bruce almost unbelieving that they reached the point that he was handing Thor his payment. In his relief, he offered to pay Thor's two days' tab at the inn.

"Uh, thanks for the trouble," Bruce offered. "You were a great help."

Thor grinned. "Glad to be of aid. Until next time, Bruce."

If there was even next time. They both hardly think they would be crossing paths again, with their destinations in mind opposites of Kolkata.

**~O~O~O~**

'Next time' was later in the middle of the night.

Thor wasn't asleep yet, perusing the book Jane had given him. He wasn't the type to sit down and read, but he must say that the illustrations accompanying the texts were interesting for him to bother. Not that he has another choice; he would get entertainment when he could get it.

There was a section about the island Jane mentioned before where people of abilities were residing. The habitants were called mutants, their capabilities varying per individual. Though feared, they were living peacefully on their own, self-sufficient and never once involved themselves with the trivialities in the mainland. There was a smudged sketch of the island on the side that Thor couldn't make out the exact shape of it. Thor turned to the next page then, reading the next chapter entitled _The Sorcerers' Mountain_, when there was a knock on the door.

It was Tom, attempting to hide his nervousness but his sweating red face gave him away. He was relieved when Thor answered immediately. "Oh, I don't know who to get at this hour," he said at Thor's confusion. "It's Bruce."

"What about him?"

"His lantern flashed thrice. It's a signal that he and I have for danger."

Thor stood straighter. "How long is this ago?"

"Not long before I ascended. Look, this might be nothing because it happened occasionally since he moved in Kolkata but then I would see him alright the following day. I might need a companion to check on him. I worry about that man."

Was this somehow related to Bruce's paranoia? Bruce believed that Shield was looking for him. Was he a wanted fugitive by any chance? He doubted he could get an answer from a worrying Tom.

Kolkata was eerily quiet during the dead of the night, not even the distant rustling of trees or an awoken cattle. The night breeze was frigid, and Thor suppressed the urge to shiver by reminding himself that he had been on the much colder lands of Jotunheim. He started to run ahead of Tom in his hurry and to wake his blood. By the time they arrived at Bruce's hut, Thor was wide awake, with a sliver of concern upon seeing the hastily patched door open and barely hanging on its hinges.

Thor would be lying if he said the prospect of a fight didn't bring him a thrum of excitement. He gestured for Tom to wait for him at the front while he was to go inside to check. There was no candle lit, the only source of light was the muted glow of the lantern above.

He didn't need any light, however, to see the giant aperture that seemingly tore the small hut apart.

It was no explosion, Thor knew as much, or there would be the distinct smell of burns. Whatever it was, it wasn't Shield. It _wasn't_ even human, by the looks of it, likely a humongous beast. Thor barely kept his awe in check as Tom rushed in, cursing behind Thor at the same sight.

His theory was confirmed when a set of large footsteps were imprinted on the backyard soil. The vegetable plot was trampled along with the unpicked harvest. The marks led to the woods behind the hut, and Thor could make out the uprooted and broken trees littering the path ahead.

"Where's Bruce?" Tom suddenly asked.

There was mild guilt in not prioritizing Bruce's safety first. "You think he's taken by..." Thor gestured at the gap. "Whatever this is?"

Tom didn't bother to hide his gulp. "Whatever it is, he won't be able to survive an attack from _that_. You saw the man. He's likely to be split in half by now!" He looked sickened at the thought.

A tall candle that Thor lit managed to illuminate the surroundings: there were the huge chunks of wood, items strewed and thrashed around—even the sacks of supplies they carried on most parts of the day were rent and the contents spilled once more, only this time they were beyond putting back. At the backyard, the twisted spiked wires could no longer serve their purpose. A small wooden pole was torn, with the rope tied around it frayed.

"Betty!" Thor remembered. "Where's Betty?"

"Is it really the time to care for a sheep?"

True, but there was something odd here. Assuming Bruce and Betty were eaten on site, there was a notable lack of blood. The likeliest case was to be taken to the creature's lair to be food for later, which meant they were alive. For now.

"Where are you going?" Tom asked when Thor began walking away towards the woods.

"To find Bruce," Thor said simply. "And Betty while I'm at it."

"And you're running there blind! Without anything to defend yourself even!" Tom was positively indignant at Thor's tendency to run straight to danger without care.

Thor, feeling spirited since landing in Midgard, laughed. "Why would I need anything? I just have to wrestle the creature!"

**~O~O~O~**

There were no otherworldly sounds that suggested Thor was about to meet a monster. No growling, nor the stink of a claimed territory. If not for the pathway, Thor would have thought he was merely taking a stroll to the woods that hardly have any predators.

Then he came across a lump on the ground.

Thor nudged it with his feet, only to find it to be an unconscious man wrapped in black from head to toe with no distinct sigil, a weapon by his hip, and probably some hidden elsewhere. Thor checked him for a pulse that was fortunately there; no injuries that he could easily see. He pulled down the cover the man has on his face to help him breathe. Thor didn't recognize him.

There were at least two more unconscious bodies ahead, one propped against a dented trunk, obviously thrown, and one flat on his side skidded on the dirt that seemed to be hit aside by a strong force.

A few steps away was a skittering of small feet if his guess was correct. Thor tuned his ears to listen where the sound was coming from and zeroed in on a particularly old tree with low boughs and thick trunk. Thor approached, slowly and with apprehension that mingled with confusion—if this was the creature he was seeking, it was a tad small.

Thor noticed first the muddied barefoot that was sticking out, and he feared that it was another body but dead instead of unconscious. He rushed and was met by the sight of a naked Bruce.

He hurried beside him and checked on the man that was partially hidden by the long shade and dried leaves that somehow fell atop him and covered his bits. Thor was relieved to find him breathing and no apparent injuries on him. Bruce's state looked better compared to the others Thor found. It was as if he was sleeping after wandering here drunk and naked. Not far from him were torn fabrics, possibly Bruce's clothing, which explained why he wasn't wearing any.

Thor mulled at the puzzling state of Bruce's clothes and completely disregarded the sheep until it bumped its forehead on his arms and nibbled on his hands. Betty was saying something through her actions, Thor recognized, and allowed her to bat away his hand from Bruce with her head and then wandered nearby. Thor watched her, transfixed as she came back with a dry broad frond and placed it down to Bruce's uncovered chest.

Oh.

Thor gently patted her on her flank in assurance. "It's okay. I'll come back with a blanket, alright? Keep close to him."

The trip back to Bruce's hut was done in a minute. He found that Tom remained, beside himself with worry and seemingly in a debate with his own whether to bolt and gather more companions or wait there.

"Thank god," Tom muttered once he saw Thor approaching. "Well? I thought you're done for, you reckless man. Where's Bruce?"

Thor shared what he discovered along the way and told the innkeeper that he believed the creature, whatever that was, was no longer around. Tom relaxed Bruce's safety was mentioned, though he looked like he wanted to smack him for leaving Bruce alone with Betty, creature or no. Thor found it amusing how Tom's face interchanged from pale to ruddy easily.

"He needs a blanket. His clothes are shredded, and he's unconscious. I'll carry him back here and lead Betty."

"By yourself?"

"I can handle it."

Tom didn't put up a fight after Thor leveled him with a stare. "You better be right that you won't get ambushed and killed," Tom grumbled and proceeded to dig at Bruce's chests for a clean rug.

A man of Bruce's stature was effortlessly maneuvered by two people on Thor's back, and Betty wasn't a fussy animal. Thor understood now fully the odd choice of companion Bruce was keeping. Tom suggested that they bring Bruce on a spare room at the inn given the present state of his home. They entered through the back of the inn, avoiding any patrons who might be up at the late hour. Betty was secured at the inn's own backyard and was given a decent portion of haylage that Tom fed to his cattle. It was Tom's treat to Betty.

"Well, did you find out what happened?" Tom asked.

Thor remembered the three other men he found and doubted they would still be there. "Not yet. I'll get it from Bruce."

Tom gave a nod in understanding. If he noted that Thor broke the eye contact when he lied, Tom didn't pry.

Thor offered to keep watch through the night. He doubted he could sleep properly in his own room after the recent events. His mind wandered back on the gigantic creature that didn't make an appearance. Thor was so sure that it wouldn't appear again tonight after noting earlier that the huge tracks stopped after he found Bruce.

He glanced back at the sleeping Bruce. He began snoring, and Thor quietly slipped out of the room to retrieve the book Jane lent him. He considered for a moment the tales that even a Midgardian like Jane passed as fictitious, or at least with minute semblance to their history. What if they were true? The Captain himself and his resurrection should be fiction in of itself, but he was walking around in the present time. What if there were more of such that yet existed?

Thor skimmed through the remaining contents of the book. A mountain of sorcerers… A city of spires… Small men… Parasitic creatures… A knight with a flaming head…

Would it be farfetched to think that Bruce could fit in among these elements?

Thor shuffled in where Bruce was, and to his surprise Bruce was already sitting up at the edge of the bed, hastily clothed. Bruce smiled, strained, and Thor was enlightened in some way as it dawned on him.

"I think I should tell you something," Bruce began, unable to meet Thor's eyes.

"You going to tell me what you are?"

Bruce looked up, startled before he chuckled. "You're smarter than you look."

Thor shrugged. "Not exactly the word I'll use to me. The signs were there, I saw them, and put two and two together."

"Not anyone can make the conclusion that I transform into… something else."

"I've been reading," Thor said. "But to be honest, the idea sounded like a stretch." He closed the door behind him and returned to his previous position opposite the bed. "Is this the reason why Shield is after you?"

Bruce nodded. "I used to live there, in Shield. I was a court physician." He waited for Thor to adjust comfortably on the floor. "This can get quite long."

"There's time."

Bruce told of his earnestness driven by his youth and unsated curiosity in how the limits of medicine could be stretched even further. Bruce experimented and found cures to ailments that baffled healers; he was renowned within the kingdom and beyond.

"Until this happened," he said. "I dabbled on something that I shouldn't, and the idiot that I am, I tried it on me. But after seeing how I turned out I don't regret that I did it to myself. Better me than another, I'd say." He sighed wistfully. "I fled from Shield when they witnessed my condition. There's no room for me there after I hurt a number of people when I showed that I couldn't control it. I hardly stay for too long in one place, three months at most, lest people find out what I can become."

"But you've been here longer than that," Thor pointed out.

"Aye. I found a stable dwelling after I developed a temporary cure." Bruce peered at him. "The ingredients that you carried—they're important to me in order to keep making what I call an inhibitor. It doesn't treat my condition, but it can temporarily hinder my transformation. I can't get angry, Thor. I can't put a strain on myself, or I'll transform. The potion I created can restrain that, the stress."

"When I broke down your door earlier, was that…"

"It was." Bruce smiled wanly. "I suppose it's not my masculinity that I'm insecure of, but I can't help but think you hit a nerve in that."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It's not like I try to make everyone know. Tom doesn't, and I'm fortunate to be friends with someone I can trust and trusts me without knowing all this." Bruce rubbed his hands together. "So before more of Shield comes down here, I have to leave, out of Tom's hair. Kolkata's peace and quiet don't deserve to be disturbed by a runaway."

Bruce was so sure that Shield would be coming for him sooner or later. "Those men are from Shield then," Thor said. "But there's no sigil on them."

"Could be hired," Bruce said. "Shield wants me—well, the monster in me. Either to kill or use it. Maybe both."

Minutes trickled by before Thor asked, "Where are you going now?"

"I have to find someone first," Bruce said. "I need some of the ingredients that I lost when I accidentally wrecked the hut. It'll take a while to place an order."

"I see." It made sense for Bruce to go directly to his supplier along the way. "Do they know about your situation?"

"The only person who knows and lives outside Shield."

"And you trust this person?"

"He's a former peer in the same field. Talented man." Bruce ran his fingers through his hair. "Frankly, it's never about me trusting the wrong people. I'm a good judge of character, of that I'm confident. Heck, the moment I woke up and saw you there I thought: hey, I have to tell Thor the truth; you know, the big guy who may or may not be The Captain by descriptions alone, and who turns out to be more than a meathead. Looks like you won't be seeing the last of him than you initially thought. It's either that I'm right on my judgment or this will be my first mistake, and I'll regret it for the rest of my life. Please don't make it the latter."

Thor couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. There was more on this paranoid man than his present state of raggedness and overall exhaustion in adapting to the lifestyle of a fugitive. Bruce was as interesting as what he could turn into.

"Alright." Thor made up his mind. "I'm coming with you."

Bruce eyed him warily. "It won't be an adventure, Thor. You'll regret immediately tagging along with me. I'm telling this to you now."

Thor grinned. "Nonsense. All the more reason to bring me with you."

"I don't plan on hiring a muscle, Thor." Bruce rubbed his temple.

"And I'm not posing as one," Thor shot back. "I'm after the traveling, mostly."

"And the rest of it?"

"To learn about this country."

"You're a foreigner?"

"Pretty much."

Bruce sighed. "Right. Of course you are."

"What better way for me to assimilate than to travel on the road with a native?" Thor claimed. "An intelligent native who has been across the land of this country numerous times."

Bruce was far from flattered. "You appear to be assimilating just fine."

Thor chuckled. "Not as fast as I should."

"Missed my point," Bruce murmured.

"Sleep on it, Bruce," Thor advised as he stood up. "I'll leave you to it. We can leave as early as you like."

**~O~O~O~**

Thor took the liberty to return to Bruce's hut and gathered a handful of each of the ingredients left. He trusted that Bruce could make a bit of his potion out of the remaining ingredients, enough for him to last the journey. Thor found receptacles that he each filled. Sitting on a corner were four bags with contents of clothing, dried food, water canisters, heavy coins divided and put into small pouches, blankets, twines, ropes, matches, and other items in tiny tin boxes that smelled strongly of herbs, no doubt for ointments and mild treatments for possible injuries along the way. They were heavy for a single man about to cover great distances, but then again Bruce was used to this, clearly ready to abscond, and wasn't entirely an ordinary man.

He hefted them, opting for a single trip, only to place them down again carefully. Thor couldn't shake off the unease from earlier that he thought came from an unknown creature. There was something else disconcerting at the stillness of the night, and being back here caused the hairs on his neck to rise.

Thor approached the large rent and exited through it. At his current distance, he wasn't able to make out whether the three bodies remained out there. He could check on them, could try to shake them awake and interrogate them—he knew adequate intimidation—to learn more for Bruce's sake.

The unconscious bodies where still there, unmoved and without a twitch. Thor crouched in front of one and pulled out the dagger. As expected, nothing distinct on it aside from the fine quality of steel. They were no simple cutthroat, that was for sure; anyone hired to go after Bruce and his other persona couldn't be that ordinary.

Thor returned the dagger on its hilt when a feeling of being watched nagged him. He kept watch of his surroundings, watched the shadows casted by the bright moon and the trees.

An outline took form from the dark—and Thor would have missed it if not for the zip of an arrow flying past his arm.

"Who's there?" he barked.

Thor twisted across the soil to avoid another arrow that whizzed close to his calf. He shot up on his feet, whipped his head on all directions to locate the source of the assault. The trees provided no clue, no rustling of leaves that could alert him to the whereabouts of his attacker.

He heard a bark creaking and a loud rustling of leaves. In a blink, the other two unconscious men were missing from their spots.

Thor kept close to the other man.

"I'd stay away from him if I were you," said a male voice.

"Where are you?" Thor called.

There was a snort. "Don't mind me. Just here to do my job of cleaning up. You leaving them made it easier. Make this easy further for the both of us, will you?"

"They came after someone!"

"They didn't succeed, obviously, or else I wouldn't be here," the man said dryly.

"No, but you didn't count on someone noticing you."

"I suppose you think that's you." There was an amused tone in the voice. "Believable if you can actually see me, don't you think? Do you even know where I am?" he taunted.

Not yet, Thor thought, listening carefully, keep talking.

"Are you from Shield?" Thor asked.

It took a moment for the reply to come. "He told you that much? So he does have friends."

Thor didn't think he and Bruce were qualified as friends yet when they only knew each other for less than a day.

"Well, how about this: I tell you that my partner is currently sending Shield's regards to your friend, and then you leave me alone to finish my job here."

He wasn't the only person bidding his time after all. Thor raced back to the inn without hesitation; he knew too well that he would return to an empty area wherein as if nothing happened, but Bruce's safety took precedence over everything else.

Tom was sweeping while it was empty of people, and he saw Thor rushing in with a sudden swing of the door and thundering steps.

"Have you checked on Bruce?"

"No—Is there something wrong?" Tom asked hastily when Thor went on upwards in a hurry.

"Yes. Go out, Tom, get—" Thor bit back his words. It would be a terrible idea to have Tom gather more people. If Bruce transformed at the wrong time and was seen by them, what then? "Just keep watch. You'll be safer down here."

Thor heard the innkeeper mutter lowly with wariness and worry what an eventful night it was. Thor could sympathize.

He kicked the door down when it refused to budge at first try and tumbled to a sight of a figure cloaked in all black sitting atop a dozing Bruce, a glinting blade clutched by the intruder's hands.

Thor tackled the assailant with all his might and pushed.

They spilled out from the second story of the inn and both descended in a tangle of limbs, their fall temporarily impeded by the roof of the stable. The other person flexibly maneuvered the two of them on a freefall and had Thor landing on his back to the ground.

He groaned and held the other person by the wrists until the weapon was dropped. He received a kick on the shins and his gut but refused to let go of his grip.

If the person expressed their shock at Thor's resilience and mobility after their drop, they didn't show. Thor twisted the attacker's back to his chest and held them firm. A small person, considering, with narrow shoulders and soft planes of the back—qualities that Thor wouldn't associate with a male combatant.

Unless…

His captive bent in an angle where their legs shot upwards overhead and landed squarely on top of Thor's head. The brief slack of Thor's hold allowed Bruce's attacker to fluidly wrap the person's legs around his neck in a reverse triangle choke.

Thor dropped on his knees and made a grab for the back of his opponent where he squeezed his fingers on the muscle by the ribs. Hard.

The grip around his neck tightened further and bent him backward. Thor pressed one foot down firmly and knocked the back of his head and hit the attacker by the abdomen. He took advantage of the stun and stood on both his feet and knocked the person to a pillar.

Thor wheezed once he was released, crawled away to distance himself from the assailant—

He witnessed the agent sent by Shield blend in the shadows in a seemingly mystical manner.

"Damn it," he muttered, heaved several breaths as he composed himself after that display.

Tom came running to him not too long later fussing about, the only thing Thor thought the man had done most of the day. Thor assured him that he was alright.

"Bruce?" he asked, coughing.

"Several guests woke up from the noise, hard not to, but not him. Sleeps like a baby."

It wasn't completely improbable to think Bruce was drugged. He should be easy to rouse given his paranoia that was doubled by the recent events, but knowing how he could be triggered with an apt amount of stress when awake, the drugging was a smart move to catch Bruce unguarded. They weren't taking half measures with him.

"Will there be more?" Tom suddenly asked. "Of those men, I mean. I'm not dumb. That one you fought is after Bruce."

"He could be after me. He only appeared when I arrived here."

Tom shook his head. "Bruce's lifestyle is questionable in itself. I know that. A traveling talented healer like him living here in Kolkata—well, I've heard of people trying to be inconspicuous in a small obscure town," he said. "Don't get me wrong. I don't care about his past. He keeps to himself and is never a nuisance."

Thor could sense the 'but' there. He knew Tom was having hesitation keeping the ordeal to himself. What if an innocent got into the crossfire of Bruce's capture attempt by Shield? "Bruce will be leaving," Thor told him. He knew what was left unsaid there.

"He has been planning to, for a while," he added when Tom looked guilty. "He likes Kolkata, but he knows he can't stay here that long."

"I hope to god he'll be fine. He's a good man. Secretive, but good."

There was a lot that Thor was yet to know about Bruce and vice versa, but it was easy to agree. "I'm coming with him, and you have my word that I'll keep him safe."

Purpose was what kept Thor moving, and now that he found one, albeit impersonal and he merely stumbled into out of sheer luck, he wasn't about to let this go.

* * *

The farewell between Tom and Bruce were formal. Bruce left Betty to the innkeeper's care, and he held a high hope of returning to the town someday and perhaps settling there permanently. Thor didn't begrudge him of that aspiration.

Half a day in their journey was when he told Bruce of last night's attack, and the knowledge had reinforced Bruce's assertion that he did the right thing by leaving. By lunchtime, Thor poked on the yellowish bruise growing on his side. For someone with a small physique, the assailant hit strongly, despite Thor wanting to blame it on his newfound mortality.

"You need help with those?" Bruce pointed at Thor's gut and winced.

There were more? Thor pulled his shirt down. "It's fine."

"You sure? You look like you don't get injuries much."

That was a funny observation. "How do you know?"

"Not a single scar," Bruce answered. "Even a cargo worker has a few nicks here and there. But given your—wait, what is it that you do again?"

"Nothing at the moment," Thor replied truthfully.

"Right. Before then?"

Thor hesitated. "I travel. A lot," he said instead.

"Doing what?" Bruce urged.

Should he say he was a banished prince of Asgard? Thor wasn't exactly looking forward to being laughed at by a traveling companion he would spend a considerable amount of time with.

"Don't tell me you're a fugitive too," Bruce muttered. He paused. "You are, aren't you?"

"Nothing like that." Thor rubbed his chin. "I've been with a scholar and his two apprentices before I came to Kolkata."

"Doesn't really answer my question," Bruce said, then sighed. "What did you do there?"

"They found me in a ditch and fed me until I recover," Thor admitted. "They even gave me Bill."

"Awfully nice of them. What happened to you?"

Bruce was certainly in a mood for interrogation. Thor couldn't hold it in him; traveling companion, correct? "You won't believe me if I tell you. The people I told you about didn't, and I'd rather not make you think I'm… mad."

"Mad," Bruce repeated. "I have to be honest—I already think you are the fact that you're here with me after I told you what I am."

That was a valid point, Thor grudgingly admitted.

"Look, I'm surprised you believed my story just like that without seeing it firsthand. Not that I'd like it if you did. We both know how that'll end up." Bruce scratched the back of his head. "Shield is after me, but they're quiet about my condition. Why do you think that is?"

"Panic?"

"And the fact that nobody will buy the story that I can turn into a giant, green rage monster," Bruce added flatly. "People don't believe that kind of things anymore, so Shield send men after me in secret when putting a bounty will make the job facile for them. My point is that whatever ridiculous tale you have, I'm sure it can't be that less believable than _this._"

Fair enough, and Thor wasn't difficult to persuade. "Fine. I was a prince."

Bruce blinked. "When I said less believable, I didn't say ludicrous."

Thor scowled. He knew this would happen.

"But whatever, you're sticking around for long. Do your worst."

Thor didn't like that he was only humored, but he took it as a signal to proceed anyway. Since Bruce was smart he might discern the facts halfway in Thor's story.

Bruce didn't. If anything, he looked impressed, as if he saw Thor in a new light after the vibrant imagery that Thor was spouting in describing Asgard and its people. It was worth trying, Thor mused, and at least it eased Bruce even more around him. Besides, it made him feel closer to Asgard, like any day now he would return and Odin would receive him with open hands.

Or not. This was a certain way as any to feel further from home, from his friends. It seemed a distant memory when he last thought of them.

Bruce took it all like a child told of extraordinary tales, and that alone made Thor appreciate the ear Bruce was lending him despite the outside perspective of that of a reader's.

"I have to say, you're in the wrong profession," Bruce said once Thor was done.

"I'm not in any profession to be wrong about."

"Maybe. Ever think of becoming a bard?"

Thor pulled a face. Bruce understood.

"Just a suggestion."

"I'll keep it in mind."

It took him another week past the storm that they met along the way for him to pull out the book Jane loaned him. Bruce has taken an interest and was impressed by the book itself. Thor asked on their validity in which Bruce shrugged.

"I only know some of them as a kid," Bruce said. "And I think it's obvious: they're what they are, tales. And tales are meant for entertainment. For children, supposedly, but I suppose there are a few adults who… do." Bruce gave an awkward shrug. "I'll find some wood for the fire."

Thor kept an eye on Bruce. He warned the latter to remain within Thor's sight. Bruce found it irritating at first to be looked after as a child but relented when Thor made a point that another attempt on his life was logical especially now that he was out in the open.

"Gee, that makes me feel even less safe," Bruce had remarked sarcastically.

The atmosphere between them was mostly sedated. Bruce was a relatively calm man that worked well with Thor's short fuse. Bruce was patient with him, surprisingly, once he had gotten over a huge chunk of his suspicion of Thor; it was still there, Thor knew, judging from how few were the hours of Bruce's sleep when it was Thor's turn in keeping watch, but they were working on it by sharing bits of information about each other. Some were made up as Bruce's way of testing him, perhaps, and to be frank, Thor wasn't sure how much of what he shared with Bruce did the man believe. Thor was also working on that, for the lack of choice on the matter.

Thor slept with one eye open, senses focused on any noise by the bushes and trees, be it snapped twigs done by animals like rabbits, of all things. The rampant prey made looking for supper without any difficulty. Thor was craving for wolf meat, but seeing that there was an odd absence of predators, rabbits and deer would suffice.

"Could use some rattlesnake," Bruce said one time, his hands propped behind his head. "I'm low on powdered snakeskin."

"I'll tell you when I come across some," Thor said optimistically. He munched tastefully on a slice of tender hare meat. He was cooking them better and better if he must say. He couldn't wait to try other animals; snake, for example.

Thor picked up a few things from Bruce. Bruce was quite talkative when he talked about the specifics of potions, salves, and their composition. They stumbled on a plant with tiny violet bell-like flowers that Bruce made out an ointment of. Bruce gave it to Thor for his bruises, and he learned that they could also repair bones. A useful thing to keep in mind.

They strayed from towns as much as they could and bargained with peddlers they met. Often, Bruce would sell medicines and antidotes he made along the way, and Thor was startled with the demand for them. Bruce was in-charged of handling their coins; therefore, the haggling was left to his hands. Thor could see that Bruce has been doing this for quite some time given that he was never once cheated during their travel—that, or Thor proved to be an imposing figure that swindlers refused to discover what would happen if they did try to defraud Bruce.

It hardly felt like being a freeloader when Thor was tasked with hunting for game, setting up camps for the nights, and keeping Bruce safe in general. He wasn't a costly companion, and he brought Bill with them to carry Bruce's load. As a show of gratitude, Bruce would get him a bottle or two of any strong brew he could find along with fresh supplies.

"I don't partake," Bruce politely refused when Thor offered it to him to imbibe on.

Thor raised the bottle by the neck, grinning. "Don't worry if you're a lightweight. I can be awake for both of us."

"Er, it's not that. I mean to say, I can't." Bruce gestured to himself. "Hulk."

"Oh."

Bruce called it Hulk, and while he wasn't all for naming it, the labeling was practical. Thor learned that it wasn't Bruce himself whenever transformed to Hulk; it was an alternate persona made of Bruce's own pent-up rage and frustration, according to his explanation. The Hulk was there underneath his skin that would react to the smallest of triggers like Bruce's agitation, fear, and anger. There were no whispering voices, fortunately, though Bruce could only escape Hulk's presence during sleep and meditation which he tried before until there were no time and permanent safe dwelling for that.

"Have you killed someone before?" Thor asked, a little deep in the cups. He was a bit sober to recognize it as an insensitive question. He waved his hand dismissively. "You don't have to answer that."

"To be honest, I have no idea. I forget events when I'm the Hulk, which is for the best, I suppose. I don't think I can handle the thought of killing someone unwittingly. It's ironic that my occupation as a healer is to preserve life." He chuckled without humor. "It's twisted how life works sometimes."

Thor mulled over Bruce's words and the fact that the same applied to him too. Last minute he was a crown prince; next thing he knew he was in Midgard, banished, a mortal, and without his hammer.

"I think my father doesn't love me," he said abruptly.

"Thor, it's alright." The tone Bruce used was sympathetic. "You don't have to—"

Thor shushed him. "Tis' fine. It's only fair." He adjusted himself in a sitting position. "Hear me out. I knew I had a point, but instead of hearing me out, he banished me." Thor paused when the statement came out slurred than he intended. "He's an old man who doesn't see things clearly. Long gone are his days where he rules with ruthlessness when needed and fairness when it calls for it. That was the father I grew up looking up to, but what is he now? Afraid of declaring war for those who wronged him, who wronged his son on his coronation day. If I've been the king, I would have—"

Thor didn't remember passing out, nor did he remember what he said. There was, however, a kind of clarity and paved its way in Bruce's face, and his demeanor more open with less slack on his shoulders. Thor didn't know what happened overnight, but he was relieved by whatever it was.

He just hoped he didn't make a fool out of himself.

"Are we getting closer to this friend of yours?" Thor asked after counting the days. They've been on the move for a month now, and not once did Shield made another attempt when Thor was itching for another fight, a rematch with that certain assailant.

"Three more days if we keep our schedule," Bruce answered. "We cross the Meadow of Ash and then proceed to the hills behind it. He lives there."

Bruce told him beforehand that they were heading north, though not in the colder lands but somewhere in between with a cooler climate than the south. Thor knew they were nearing when Bruce began shivering from an evening breeze from time to time. Thor, meanwhile, remained unaffected by the stronger winds. The chill was colder back then in Kolkata, he thought. In fact, his body was warmer the nearer they got, and it wasn't the kind he got from sitting in front of the campfire for hours but more of sleeping in front of the hearth in the safety of his room. It felt like home, in a way.

"Where are you going after this?" Thor asked curiously. The sun was close to settling down the horizon beyond the ash trees as far as Thor's eyes could see. The ash trees resembled the paintings of Yggdrasil the longer he watched them.

"Nothing left for me to do but to run again," Bruce said. "Maybe live in the mountains this time, away from the people."

"You can let Hulk out occasionally that way," Thor suggested. The mountain would provide open wilderness for Bruce and the Hulk's roaming.

Bruce grimaced. "I'd rather not. Can't say what will happen then in spite of living miles away from the nearest town."

Thor knew better than to insist that it would be better for both of them to release the Hulk periodically. Suppressing the Hulk was akin to suppressing emotions, and in Thor's book, it wasn't ideal. But what did he know about sharing one's life with a rage monster?

"How about you?"

Thor was bound to find another purpose, continue his previous plan of looking for a worthy feat to present to Odin. He glanced at Bruce. It had once occurred to him to hunt the Hulk and defeat it, and then he got to know Bruce aside his name and Thor's initial objective was changed without his awareness. While there was no doubt that the Hulk was interesting in its own right, Bruce was equally so.

"Travel. Again." Wander around aimlessly.

"Then I bid you safe travels, Thor."

"You as well, Bruce."

Midday of the following day came in a slow, eventless drag of the hours. Thor mistook the peaceful lull of their journey as a lengthy calm before the storm and expected danger to appear at the last minute.

There was a sole hut that Thor began to see at a distance. It was bigger than Bruce's, surrounded by personally tended vegetation fenced from the wild shrubberies. The place painted a tranquil scenery that seemingly called to Thor, and he would have thought that a woman was living there with the homely ambiance it projected.

"This is it," Bruce announced with a small smile of relief.

Thor followed him. He could hear the puttering coming indoors. The front yard was littered with more colors at this proximity. He noted a mound with a marker, littered with a crown of purple, pink, and white flowers. Thor suspected a buried beloved pet that passed away not too long ago, perhaps the sole companion of Bruce's friend in the middle of nowhere.

"This companion of yours, what should I address him as?" Thor questioned absently, eyes taking in the greenery and the variant hues. It was no different from his late mother's garden that remained cared for and where Thor would found himself whenever he sought serenity.

"His name is Loki."

Thor halted in his steps. That was a name he hadn't heard for a while even back in Asgard. But how common was the name Loki? Surely, it was pure coincidence that—

The door of the hut opened and out a man in a dull green tunic, pale skinned, and with long dark hair spilling on his shoulders. And that face… Thor couldn't mistake those sharp green eyes that gleamed with mischief depicted in murals and old paintings that were stored and gathering dust in the deepest recesses of Asgard's palace as if a way to hide the traitor's once intimate involvement with the royal family.

It was nothing but a disgusting mask, this appearance of normalcy that he was wearing to hide underneath his true monstrous skin of blue and beastly red eyes.

"You," Thor gritted through his teeth. "Loki."

Amidst the growing fury in him, Thor knew what he has to do.

He has to bring Loki's head in Agard and lay it on Odin's feet.

* * *

**TBC**


End file.
